


Just Between Us

by Emono



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boys In Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of Order Chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emono/pseuds/Emono
Summary: Sidney learns Russian to try and close the barrier between him and Geno. He's a man in love and he's determined. Maybe he can step up his flirting game if he does it in Russian?





	1. Chapter 1

Sid considered Geno as close to a friend as he’d ever had. Maybe that’s why affection had grown so easily between them over the years. In one way or another it felt like they’d always been in each other’s lives. Their names met first, falling from the mouths of strangers like they were already written in the stars to be rivals. They’d been caught in the gravitational pull of one another since they were teens, hurling through hockey to burn their names into everyone’s minds. They swung in opposite rotations around the burning sun of their passion - never touching, never meeting, only catching glimpses as they hurled past one another again and again. Then their skates cut the same ice and it was instant chemistry and heat and sparks and all those reactions that are supposed to happen when it’s _right_. They started to grow in the same soil, springing up from gangly boys to young men to NHL players, all within arm reach. 

 

When they were matched together on the same team it was undeniable that their names truly had been written in the core of a destiny knot, not as rivals but as strong allies. 

 

Their touches lingered in ways that didn’t happen with other teammates. Their cellies were maybe a little more elaborate and, even if they weren’t on the ice, Sid seemed to always be seeking Geno’s gaze, and those dark eyes sought his in return. They were attached at the hip, the Two Headed Monster. 

 

And Sidney was falling in love. If he was a stronger, more confident man he’d just admit he was there already. 

 

Geno played a powerful, slick hockey game and that was enough to get Sid flustered from day one of practice together. Once he’d learned more English and gotten more comfortable with the team, Sid started blushing like a schoolboy as Geno started to chirp back and crack jokes. Fuck all his luck - Geno was _funny_. Strong and sure, blunt in that way he’d come to expect from Russians but strangely shy in the way he’d hand Sid things he’d picked up for him on a “whim” like Reese Cups or his favorite brand of tape. 

 

Sid would always take those gifts with a fluttering heart and he swore he could see something warm in Geno’s eyes, something hopeful and fragile that he was sure reflected back in his own gaze. 

 

And his name - God, even his _name_ sounded good in Geno’s mouth. His voice curled thickly around each letter and it came out smooth, almost decadent. The reverse wasn’t true. Sid wasn’t very good with language in general. Even his French, which he’d grown up hearing and speaking, came out like a slur at the best of times. He had a routine for interviews and speeches where he went over all the possible openings and questions just so he didn’t fumble too much. His entire life he’d struggled to express himself, the intricate web of his thoughts and the complexities of his emotions always escaping him when he tried to speak it. The only thing that had ever come naturally was hockey. 

 

_Evgeni_ got stuck behind his teeth and Geno had winced the first time he’d tried. _Malkin_ was better, easier, and thankfully, _Zhenya_ flowed a bit like French so his dumb Canadian tongue could curl around it well enough but that wasn’t really an every day kind of thing to call his friend. That was reserved for when they were off the ice in their own homes. _Geno_ and _G_ were his go-to on the ice. It was easier to yell and Geno responded to it quickly.

 

They found a way to work around the language barriers between them. Their friendship was full of meaningful touches and rituals, headbutts and chirps, and overall a respect and understanding that was hard earned.    
  


And that was fine for a strong friendship but Sid was starting to crave more. He’d look at Geno and yearned in a way he only felt when he couldn’t get on the ice. It wasn’t just in the middle of the night when Geno came to his mind, Sid would often find himself daydreaming about ways to woo his boisterous teammate. Geno seemed the type to prefer food or practical gifts over fluff - chocolates and steaks over flowers for sure. Sid would imagine himself smoothly inviting Geno out somewhere sort of luxurious and private, or maybe cooking some of his favorite foods at home so they could be alone. He imagined himself getting up the nerve to call Ovekchin and needling some of Geno’s favorite Russian dishes out of him and cooking those up. He’d practice of course, he’d want it to be perfect. 

 

With that same line of thought he came to realize that there was one last barrier between them. 

 

Sid had spent the off season considering his choices. He weighed the pros and cons of romantically pursuing Geno but in the end his heart won out. How often did he let himself have what he wanted? Besides hockey, when had he ever lived selfishly? Geno was something, _someone_ , he wanted desperately. It was a slow burn that he’d been ignoring for too long. It had been more than five years of pining and it was time to take the shot or pass the puck.

 

Sid wasn’t sure how many more times he could see beautiful, nameless people shuffle through Geno’s bed before he made himself heartsick. 

 

It wasn’t his stupid, inconvenient shyness getting in the way. It wasn’t hockey or scheduling or summers spent apart. It was the language. It was a team joke that Geno didn’t keep up with Sid’s ‘captain talks’ and it was true. He could see the moment when the quick English got too much and his eyes would glaze over. He was smart, wicked smart, he could get the gist and use context clues. Some things didn’t translate well into English and Sid didn’t know one word of Russian. 

 

Therein laid the problem. Geno was doing all the work. There was a gap between them. Sid thought that maybe if he made the effort and reached out in that way, they could maybe close that last bit of distance. If something could happen between them, Sid would have to make the first move. 

 

Sid made it his mission and he was hard headed when it came to what he wanted. He’d learn Russian, at least enough to show Geno that he wanted to be involved in every part of his life. Even the parts that were hard to talk about. 

 

Flirting with Geno was hard in English but maybe if he did it in Russian, broken or otherwise, it would be easier. It could be a private thing between them. No one else on the team spoke it so maybe he could even be a little bold with it on the ice. 

 

Sid just wasn’t sure how to start.

 

o0o

  
  
“Sheary?”

 

Conor perked up and turned towards him with a bright smile. The media constantly mispronounced his name so whenever Sid put the proper lilt in it the young man brightened. “Captain! What’s up?”

 

Sid wanted to ruffle his hair. Conor was adorable but he was quickly evolving from one of their baby Penguins to a full blown star on the team. He had a great work ethic and a wonderful attitude. He knew out of all the guys Conor would know what to do and wouldn’t make fun of him for asking. 

 

Instead of pinching his baby face, Sid laid a hand on his shoulder blade and guided Conor a little further down the stalls away from where the last of the guys were lingering after practice. “I sort of have a favor to ask.”

 

“Anything,” Conor agreed easily.

 

“I want to learn another language. I read that there’s a lot of apps you can use to help with that,” Sid began, pulling out his phone and handing it over. “See, the problem is-”

 

“You can barely text,” Conor chirped lightly. Sid pushed his shoulder playfully and Conor laughed. “You want my help?”   
  


  
“There’s a lot of apps,” Sid defended weakly. He scrunched his nose up as he glared at his phone. “I’m just not sure which one is the best?”

 

Conor elbowed him a little before plopping down on the bench, entering Sid’s very simple lock. Everyone knew his key was just a string of fives and Conor looked at home casually going through his phone. “I’ll set you up. A couple of my friends have had good luck with this one.” 

 

Sid sighed in relief. “Thanks so much.”

 

“What language do you want to learn, by the way? Some apps are better than others for different languages.”

 

“Russian,” Sid replied without thinking. He winced. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s sort of a surprise, I guess.” 

 

Conor’s head shot up but he didn’t say anything. The kid blinked once, twice, then buttoned his lip and went back to searching in his app store. Sid breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that was the end of it.

 

o0o

 

It was far from over. 

 

Sid sat at the kitchen counter at the training center with his face in his palms and a frown twisting his mouth. He was only on the first lesson and he was struggling. Conor had downloaded Duolingo for him and an app that had all the Russian letters so he could click on them and hear them, see what they sounded like Romanized. Sid had made the big mistake of trying to go head first into the language. He’d been up a little late looking up Russian grammar and verb conjugation and he’d given himself a headache. He’d decided to stick with baby steps and maybe research some Russian music or something, dip his toes in it.  

 

It was already a lot harder than he’d imagined. 

 

“How’s the Russian going?” 

 

Sid smiled at Conor’s happy tone and was about to commend his teammate for coming in so early for optional skate but jumped when he was suddenly flanked. Olli and Guentzel took the stools on either side of him wearing matching interested (if not slightly concerned) expressions. Sid shot a glare over his shoulder but Conor’s smile didn’t falter.

 

“I told you not to tell anyone.”

 

“He only told us,” Olli promised as Guentzel made a show of crossing himself like a promise. Sid rolled his eyes but he could almost here Geno’s voice in the back of his head reminding him that baby Penguins stuck together.

 

“We think it’s great,” Guentzel assured him. “We won’t tell anyone.”  
  
  
  
Sid met each of their gazes and Geno’s name was hovering just at the back of their tongues. His babies were perceptive little things and he wanted to mush a glove into their faces but he couldn’t be annoyed when they looked so earnest. He sighed but the effect was ruined by the smile that managed to break through. Olli looked too pleased with himself. 

 

Sid turned back to his phone. “It’s going alright. I’ve done the first two lessons a couple times over. I’m sort of getting familiar with the letters but it’s really different.”

 

Conor dropped his hands on his shoulders and squeezed. “Don’t focus on the negative! What have you learned?”

 

“I’ve learned mom, house, yes, no, and I’ve learned _eta_. It means ‘this is’, like ‘ _eta_  Conor’,” Sid pronounced the best he could, reaching back and pinching the kid’s cheek. Conor laughed and batted at his hand. “And _eta_ water, _eta_ Olli and _eta_ Jake.”

 

He tapped his finger on his water bottle, then on Olli and Guentzel’s foreheads. They both wrinkled up their noses but they were smiling. 

 

“So I’ve got that down,” Sid conceded. “Radio and motor are harder. They sound like the English words but the accent and stress has a lot to do with it.”

 

“Let’s hear it,” Guentzel encouraged. Sid shook his head wildly. “Come on, Cap! It can’t be that bad.”

 

Sid huffed but brought up the second lesson. He clicked on the appropriate pictures and the woman’s voice announced how to pronounce it. “Rad-yo, mot-ar.”

 

All three Penguins blinked at him. 

 

“That...was a great attempt, Sid,” Olli assured him stuntedly. “You’re really, uh.”

 

“ _Trying_ ,” Guentzel finished, his smile a little hesitant. 

 

Conor shot them both an unimpressed look and Sid groaned into his hand. “It’s that bad?”

 

“It’s your second day,” Conor dismissed. “Give yourself some credit, okay? It’s not going to come overnight.”

 

o0o

 

Sid scowled heavily at his phone and wondered how hard he’d have to throw it to break it beyond repair. He was spread out on the padded bench in the far corner of the locker room. The guys weren’t due to be there for at least another half hour and he’d been trying to squeeze a lesson in but he was starting to feel the first grit of frustration. The alphabet was a nightmare for his Canadian tongue. It kept wanting to curl like French but Russian was more blunt. It flowed when he heard it but everytime he spoke it out loud he sounded stunted and unsure. 

 

This was starting to feel like a bad idea. 

 

And of course Olli and Conor found him. 

 

“That bad, huh?” Conor asked with a frown.

 

“It’s just-” Sid bit down on his complaint. “I’m struggling.”

 

“Maybe you’re overthinking it?” Olli offered unhelpfully. “You should just try to learn the basics first.” Sid shot him a glare but Olli kept going. “Like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. That kind of stuff is the building blocks of every language.”

 

“Oh, really? I didn’t think of that,” Sid snapped. Venom slid through every word as he sat up and picked up the notebook he’d been keeping his vocab in. He flipped it around to practically shove in Olli’s face. “Here’s ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Read it out for me so maybe I can pick it up faster.”

 

Olli’s brow pinched up as he silently tried to work out some kind of sound from the markings in front of him.

 

“Here, let me help.” Sid turned it back and read off his handwriting. “Please is spelled with three-fourths of a box, o, a lizard, a, three-fourths of a box with a tail, y, backwards N with a hat, c, capital T, a. All that sounds like ‘pajalasta’ but I know I’m fucking that up.” 

 

Conor choked down a laugh and Olli looked mortified. 

 

“And thank you is spelled, and I quote - a c, three-fourths of a box, a, c, backwards N, the number six, and an o. ‘Spaseeba’.” He slapped the notebook down and raised a brow at Olli. “Easy building blocks, right?”

 

Olli dropped his eyes. “I’m sorry, Cros. I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

Sid conked his head against the wall and sighed at the ceiling. “I know. I’m just going a lot slower than I expected. It’s hard.” He clenched his eyes shut. “I really, _really_ hate admitting something is hard for me.”

 

“We know,” Conor soothed, patting his knee. “I believe in you and all that. You’ll get it.”

 

The rest of the team started to arrive and Sid tucked away his phone and notebook under his jacket. The baby Pens dropped it but Sid felt like Olli was right at his side the whole practice to keep his lanes clear and the others off his back. It was the most genuine apology he could want and afterward he bumped their helmets.

 

He got a side hug from Geno on the way off the ice, one scrimmage captain to another, and Sid felt his heart flutter up into the back of his throat. He was going to learn Russian if it killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Geno wasn’t sure what was going on with Sid but it was something. Sid could be rather secretive but whatever he was hiding didn’t seem detrimental to the team or himself so Geno didn’t push. It was just small things. Sid was on his phone more and he had a new notebook he carried around with him everywhere. When he came over, Sid seemed to always be just off his laptop or closing that notebook. The biggest tell was that when Geno passed Sid in the gym he could hear _different_ music trickling past his headphones. He knew the familiar notes and cadences of Sid’s borderline-religiously-stacked gym playlist so it was a shock to hear something unfamiliar. 

 

But it wasn’t unfamiliar. Something about it made him lean in. But every time he tried to investigate Sid would pause the music and pull the buds out to ask him if he needed something. There was always some pink in his ears and across his cheeks when he did it so Geno was suspicious. 

 

And then he heard it. 

 

“ _Zhenya_!”

 

Geno nearly tripped over his own stupid feet as he came to a sudden stop. Hearing his nickname pronounced like _that_ was the last thing he’d expected after practice in the middle of a weekend. He mentally shuffled through which of his fellow Russian hockey players could be dropping in for a visit but he came up blank. He knew that voice, he was sure he did, but none of his Pens said his name like that. The accent was there and it was good - _damn_ good. The ‘Z’ wasn’t like it was in non-Russian mouths, there was a distinctive ‘ _zhen_ ’ that made his ears perk. 

 

Geno whirled around and his jaw went slack as he saw Sid jogging toward him. His gear bag smacked lightly against his back, sneakers squeaking on the floor as he tried to catch up. He was smiling in that unrestrained, bright way that made his eyes crinkle up in the corners and all his teeth showing. Geno was floored. _Sidney_? Sidney “Even My French Is Terrible” Crosby? He’d never heard Sid say a Russian word in his entire life. The most was the way he’d choked around ‘ _Evgeni_ ’ like it was trying to get stuck between his teeth.  

 

Sid came to a stop in front of him with a faint noise as he caught his breath. He’d gone a little too hard during practice and it showed in the ruddy flush across his cheeks. “Hey, I thought I’d missed you. I wanted to know if you want to go get lunch? I’m starving.”

 

Geno’s heart did a flip-flop in his chest at the thought of having lunch with just him and Sid. It was rare when he didn’t have to share his friend. He knew Sid would probably want to talk shop the whole time but he didn’t mind if it meant he got to bask in that smile for a while. He silently cursed himself for being so sappy and tried to tone down his smile. “Lunch on captain.”

 

Sid chuckled and Geno vowed that today he would get one of those honking laughs out of the man before the meal was over. The pink darkened and Sid’s smile turned a little bashful. “Actually, do you want to just come over to my place?”

 

Geno’s eyebrows shot up and Sid’s ears were starting to turn blood red.

 

“I-I have a bunch of stuff for sandwiches and bread I need to toast, and there’s this documentary called Grizzly Man, I think? Taylor keeps bugging me to watch it. It’s this guy who, uh, lives with bears and I guess it doesn’t go well?” Sid’s knuckles were white around the strap and Geno wondered what the hell he was so anxious about. “If you want to go out somewhere instead, that’s fine. I’m up for anything.”

 

“Sid thinks because Russian I must love bears,” Geno teased to try and lighten the mood. Sid laughed again and the sound was a little closer to relaxed. Maybe Sid had something difficult he wanted to talk about, Captain to Alternate, that was a little too serious to risk the team listening in. If Sid needed to talk, Geno would always listen. 

 

“No, I promise it’s nothing like that.” Sid looked away, his sneakers shifting as he flexed his feet, shifting his weight. “I’ll make the sandwiches and everything.”

 

“Sounds good,” Geno agreed easily, patting his shoulder. He purposefully didn’t let his hand linger on the thick muscle. “I meet you there. We finish off whole fridge no problem.”

 

As the day melted into evening, Geno’s concern was unfounded. They ate a pile of sandwiches (being careful of crumbs as always) and watched Grizzly Man. It was pretty fascinating but Geno kept an ear tuned for any sign of Sid starting the conversation. He never did. Their conversation was light, casual, some hockey creeping in but that was nothing new. They flipped to some crap TV about a self sustaining family in Alaska and had a good laugh. They dozed off now and then, couch pillows in their arms and heads dipping and tipping back against the couch. Geno didn’t keep to his schedule as tightly as Sid but usually they both napped after practice and food. 

 

Geno waited but Sid never dropped a heavy conversation.

 

Someone yelled on screen and Geno startled out of a light sleep. He wiped his mouth but could feel the heavy siren call of sleep still calling to him. He groped for his phone and set a timer on his phone for half an hour so he wouldn’t overdo it. His ever responsible captain hadn’t and he was surprised to look down the length of the couch and see that Sid had dozed off too. Sid was perched precariously and with every breath he was tipping off the couch a little at a time. 

 

Geno sat up as quickly as he could without jostling Sid around. He tucked a knee against the back of the couch and braced a hand on the cushioned arm, his other hand shooting out to catch Sid’s head. He put a foot on the floor and the other’s body tipped against it. He breathed a sigh of relief and waited for Sid to startle so he could make fun of him but he didn’t. 

 

His captain stayed blissfully asleep and Geno kept quiet. A blush started to burn across his own cheeks as he found himself looking at Sid, truly looking at him in a way he didn’t allow himself in the daylight. For all the crap and chirps Sid got he truly was beautiful in Geno’s eyes. Those full inviting, lips and deep set hazel eyes that were hidden by long lashes. The graceful sweep of his cheekbones and the start of raven curls around his ears and across his forehead. 

 

Geno thumbed lightly just below Sid’s lip and the man snuffled into his palm. If he looked closely enough he could probably pick out Sid’s fake teeth from his few real ones. His nose wasn’t as big as Geno’s but it was enough to warrant chirps. Sometimes his skin broke out like a teenager and he couldn’t grow a beard to save his life. His laugh was as large as life and twice as loud. He got hot headed on the ice at times that made no sense to Geno. He could clam up for days without warning and his rituals could be a pain in the ass to navigate.

 

And Geno loved it. He loved every last thing about Sidney Crosby, the good and the bad.

 

It wasn’t the first time Geno had thought that but it hit him in the chest every single time. He choked on a breath and it must have rattled his hand enough to pull Sid from his dreams. Sid sucked in a short breath and his eyes popped open. Cloudy, curious hazels peered up at him but he didn’t move. Sid blinked once, twice, and then they were both blushing as the realized what position they were in.

 

Geno all but hovering over him, petting through his hair and gazing down at him with far too much in his eyes.

 

“Sid almost fall, I catch,” Geno stated dumbly.

 

Neither of them moved. Their chests rose and fell with every breath and Geno yearned to close that last bit of distance between them. 

 

“Thanks,” Sid breathed, smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His brow pinched up like he’d remembered something and then he frowned. It was enough to break the moment and Geno hurried to pull back. No matter his feelings for Sid, losing him or making him uncomfortable was worse than hiding. 

 

“Media soon,” Geno half lied. It was two hours from now but he needed a reason to get off the couch. “Need shower and good clothes. Meet you there?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Sid agreed easily, distracted and looking maybe even a little bashful. Geno got up and took their water bottles to the kitchen. He was dumping them in the sink when he was sure he heard Sid muttering to himself.

 

It sounded strangely like _spasibo_ but that couldn’t be right. Sid didn’t know any Russian.


End file.
